


Hardship

by ikkka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Kolinahr (Star Trek), M/M, McCoy is a Good Friend, Post-Five Year Mission, Pre-Star trek I: The Motion Picture, Sad and Sweet, Star Trek I: The Motion Picture, Vignette, they mention spock but not by name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkka/pseuds/ikkka
Summary: Leonard McCoy consoles James T. Kirk, absolutely destroyed after Spock leaves for Kolinahr.Can be read as James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, but I wrote it with the intention of it being platonic.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 13
Kudos: 47





	Hardship

**Author's Note:**

> Tags are a mess, sorry! Mobile formatting sucks :(
> 
> EDIT May 10th, 2020: Adjusted title.

"Jim, put the bottle down."

McCoy's voice was as soothing as it could be, given the situation. It was very early in the morning. He could hear Kirk's ragged breathing over the glugging of the rum he was pouring into his shot glass. He set the bottle down on the counter, picked up the shot and knocked it back. He winced, scrunched up his nose at the burn, then set the glass back down and poured the bottle again.

"Jim." McCoy repeated sternly. "Put the bottle down."

McCoy walked closer, laying his elbow over the countertop and turning his body so he faced him. He let his other arm reach out to grab Kirk's. He felt the muscles in Kirk's arm tense at the touch, holding the contractions, before eventually giving up and relaxing. With a defeated sigh, Kirk put the bottle down. He knocked the new shot he had poured back anyway, but when he lowered the glass down to his chest, he didn't grab the bottle back and refill it. A victory, in McCoy's books.

"Jim," McCoy licked his lips, pausing so he could try to voice his inevitable monologue carefully. "I know how easy it is to fall back into self-destructive habits, especially in times like these…"

"You don't know _shit._ " Was Kirk's dry reply. His throat was scratchy from the burning of the alcohol. McCoy tried to laugh and make the tense atmosphere a bit less suffocating, but it came out as a choked cough and it did little to help.

"I know a lot, Jim. I'm a doctor-"

"But not a therapist. Or a counselor. Or even a psychology major." Kirk nearly _spat_ , though his voice was more apathetic than malicious. He thumbed at the shot glass, rolling it between his fingers. He refused to look at McCoy.

McCoy wasn't going to end the sentence like that, and he frowned at the thought that Kirk assumed he would say something so dismissive at such a vulnerable time, but he bit back the retort that formed and instead forced himself into neutrality. It was neither the place nor the time. He tried to formulate some other words, hopefully ones more encouraging and positive, but he found his mind blank.

"No," Was what McCoy could only say, "I'm not."

Kirk shut his eyes closed forcefully, no doubt beginning to feel the effects of however many shots he ended up taking. McCoy didn't even know. He patted his arm gently before inching close enough to let it trail to his back.

"But you know what I am?" McCoy added with a strained half smile, "Besides a doctor, of course."

Kirk didn't respond. He didn't even look up from the glass. McCoy took that as a queue to continue.

"I'm your _friend_. I have been for the past 5 years, since the beginning of the mission. Even earlier, I'd argue, if you'd call our Academy shenanigans friendship." McCoy laughed at that, and this time it was more successful; he could physically feel Kirk relax a bit more, and how he shifted his weight from one leg to the other in less of a nervous way than he had before.

"And being your friend for so long: witnessing your successes, your failures, celebrating your victories with you, consoling you through heartbreaks that, compared to now, must seem trivial… I've come to know you, Jim. How you work. What makes your brain tick."

Kirk straightened his back up, and McCoy read it as a defensive measure. A 'you're right but I don't want to admit it,' he assumed. Regardless, he cut right to the chase.

"What I'm trying to say is… I feel the heartbreak too. Less than you, sure. I mean, you _loved_ the man. I just loved arguing with him. But… you can take comfort in me. Find some sort of alliance in our mutual hardship, even if you got hit the worst."

McCoy took his hand off of Kirk's back and laid it gently back onto his arm, where it was before. He nudged Kirk a bit, and Kirk turned to face McCoy properly. McCoy coaxed the shot glass out of his hand and set it back down onto the counter. Then, he looked up, finally meeting Kirk's eyes fully. They were glassy, wet, and simultaneously both a black hole into the void and a wormhole to the center of the universe.

McCoy paused, licking his lips again with what little saliva he had. His mouth felt like he had suddenly inhaled a bunch of chalk dust.

"I'm here for you, Jim." He managed to croak out. "I'm not leaving for Georgia until you're good on your own..."

Kirk's eyes fell to the ground and McCoy could see the tears beginning to well up. He lightly shook Kirk's arm in a way he hoped came across as comforting.

"... I'm not leaving _you._ " He finished.

With that, McCoy wrapped both his arms around Kirk's chest and drew himself into him, burying his face into the shorter man's shoulder and letting himself _feel._ Feel the sturdiness of the muscles he could grab with his hands. Feel the ragged breaths the man underneath him drew in. He could feel Kirk resist, only for a millisecond, before crumbling and falling into McCoy's embrace, burying his own face into McCoy's own shoulder and _sobbing._ He could feel the tears wet his shirt, and feel the shirt shift uncomfortably across his skin when Kirk hugged him harder, grabbing on for dear life as if McCoy would disappear forever if he let him go.

Kirk just cried, _wailed_ , full and uninhibited. McCoy tried his best not to start crying himself. He patted his back, rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of his shirt. 

"I'm sorry, Bones," Kirk eventually tried to speak through his sobs. It was broken, but McCoy heard it. His heart constricted and his throat seized up at it.

"It's okay Jim," He managed to choke out. He couldn't stop his own tears from falling. "It'll be okay."


End file.
